mem'Sahib Bunduki and the Nandi Bear
by Gemini Explorer
Summary: The explorers are off the Plateau, on their second African safari. On their way back to Nairobi to return to the UK  Brazil for the Malones , they encounter natives seemingly killed by a mythical beast. Can they kill it, or will it claim one of them?


INTRODUCTION

This Fic is Rated as Mature to be safe, but no graphic sex is involved. Brief nudity may occur. It does involve some (married) characters snuggling and talking while in bed together and there is some violence, with killing of both humans and animals. Animal scavengers also appear._ Racial and cultural issues are those of the day, and neither the author or any other party associated with The Lost World endorses any modern parallels._

Wild animal populations were then also very much greater. (After Kenya received independence from Britain in 1962, widespread poaching led to shortages, and big game hunting is now illegal in that particular African country. Other nations there have managed their resources better, and safari hunting is still alive and well. At the time of the story, only the really wealthy could hunt in Africa. Now, many upper middle class sportsmen manage to do that. But in the 1920's, there was no significant air travel, and hunters went by ship. Overall costs are now less, too. )

Keep in mind if you are new to my Fics that the Roxtons (John and Marguerite), the Challengers (George and Finn), and the Malones (Ned and Veronica) are married, and live off of the Plateau, save for the Malones, who are on vacation with their friends. The other couples live in Britain. The Roxtons are the Earl and Countess of Avebury, and the Challengers live in Kent. Both have town homes in London. George sells inventions and publishes scientific papers. Finn has become an author of adventure books, both true and fiction. And she is a pioneer wildlife photographer and film maker. Her secretary, Susan Wilson, was among the white slave girls rescued in, _On __Safari_. (No longer on the Net.) She was reluctant to return to her bank job, and the Challengers hired her to assist Finn. Susan is about Finn's height, but five years younger, at 23. She worships Finn, and is loved by both Challengers. The other characters met and married in prior safari fics. However, the District Commissioner and his wife are not those of previous stories, as the adventurers are now to the west of Sir John Musgrave's jurisdiction.

What they look like: White hunter Stuart Hamilton closely resembles a young Robert Redford, as Redford appeared in the superb film, _Out __of __Africa_. He is about 30, with dark blonde hair. His wife, the former Diana Hardy, is a beautiful brunette about the same height as the other women, five feet, seven inches. Her hair is a lovely chestnut brown. White Hunter Geoffrey Blacklaws is a former South African who moved to Kenya after WWI. He's 34, and looks like Errol Flynn did in the late 1930's when he played _Capt. __Blood _and _Robin __Hood_. Geoff has a slim mustache (like Zorro's), but no beard. He married the daughter of a wealthy Nairobi car dealer and land developer. She is Holly Deleterre Blacklaws, and looks like Denise Richards did when she filmed, _Wild __Things_.

Holly and Diana were among the freed slave girls in, _On __Safari _and decided to marry the white hunters who helped to rescue them. But Holly had been intrigued with Geoff for several years, although she was engaged to a socially prominent man, who dropped her as "soiled goods" after learning that she had been held naked in the hands of kidnappers who intended to sell her, Veronica, Diana, Susan, and Marguerite to the Sultan of Amarrah. (Fictional country. This Sultan was the son of the one who enslaved Marguerite in, "A Prisoner of the Sultan") Finn Challenger had accompanied her mate and the other men on a hunt when the slavers struck. She was among the rescuers. Holly and Diana are both 19, almost 20. They have been married for a little over a year.

**Mem'Sahib ****Bunduki ****and ****the ****Nandi ****Bear**

by

Gemini Explorer

NOTE: This Fic is Rated as Mature

Kenya Colony, British East Africa, 1929

The cloudless blue African sky was empty, save for a black Bataleur eagle that soared over the savannah, no doubt looking for a small animal to become its lunch. Lord John Roxton watched the eagle through his Zeiss 8X30 binocular. He found it thrilling to behold and called to his wife and her close friend Finn Challenger to come and see. "Ladies, get your glasses and come see this bird. It is the aerial essence of Africa, and worth a look."

Finn, long Roxton's favorite hunting companion and virtual little sister, scrambled for her identical binocular, and shouted for her husband to bring his binocular and behold the big bird as it coasted on invisible air currents.

"By Jove, John, that is indeed a sight to see," admitted the male Challenger.

He swung his glass to follow the bird as it diverted from random cruising and veered to the right of the watchers.

"Hmpff," said Lady Roxton, the Countess of Avebury. "There are vultures gathering over there. Something seems to have had the bad taste to die where those filthy carrion crows can spoil the day for us. Now, Finnykins and Susan will decide that those _n__'__dege_ (Swahili for vultures or birds) mean that lions have done in some poor antelope and that they really just must drive over and take photos of said lions at lunch. I suppose there are worse ways to spend an hour or so, and selling animal photos and films does help the Challengers to keep the proverbial wolf from their financial door. What a pity that that sort of wolf isn't the kind that people will pay to see the hide of at Finny's lectures."

"You have a point, Marguerite," agreed Finn. "Susan, we'll get some quick pics with your little Leica, and see if we can use the cinematography camera for some movie footage. People at my appearances do indeed like to see lions at lunch, looking fierce and dangerous. The very picture of darkest Africa, red in tooth and claw."

"Sounds almost as if you were already writing your next book in your head," observed Holly Blacklaws, wife of their senior white hunter. Her husband Geoff and his partner Stuart Hamilton were their guides and mentors during the safari, the second that the explorers had made in Kenya in as many years. Normally, the wives stayed at home, but were friends of the clients, and had begged to come along and help in camp. Holly and her best friend, Diana Hamilton, had been rescued by Finn and the men of the safari after being captured by slavers the previous year. Having shared chains and terror with Marguerite, Veronica and Susan, Holly and Diana had formed a bond beyond that of normal hunter-client relations. The clients were paying their basic costs, but Geoff and Stuart had refused to take any additional money from their companions. "Just tell your rich friends about our operation and send them our way," Geoff had joked as Holly jabbed him in the ribs in embarrassment.

"Yeah," Finn grinned. "I'm always writing in my head. There's more in there than Marguerite knows when she makes those awful blonde jokes."

"Surprising, but good to know," the Countess sniped. She did enjoy making those blonde jokes, although she knew perfectly well that Finn and Veronica were both of well above average intelligence. So was Susan Wilson, and Marguerite quite liked all of them. She even felt a bit motherly toward Susan, although she tried to hide it.

"Well, look," said Lord Roxton, "are we really going to go see if there are lions on a kill? Seems a capital idea. We can all watch as the girls get their photos. If there's a really big trophy class lion, I might just shoot him after the ladies have finished taking his picture."

Diana interrupted. "I can have sandwiches and drinks ready in a jif if we can eat first. Veronica and I are starved. We were just discussing that when you saw the vultures."

"Diana and Vee have a point," allowed Roxton. "My stomach is about to growl like a lion, too. If we eat without delay, the cats should still be on that kill when we get there."

The group agreed to have sandwiches made of sliced Francolin grouse breast meat, and German potato salad that the wives had prepared before leaving camp that day. Finn had packed plenty of dill pickles, knowing how fond her spouse and John Roxton were of them. Holly waved to the head African "boy" in the supply truck and called, "Juma! _Lette __chakula, __pesi, __pesi!__"_ (Juma! Bring the food, quickly.)

Juma shouted back_,__ "__N__'__dio, __mem__'__Sahib__" _and rushed to bring the chop box and a selection of beer, water, and ginger ale. The latter had been brought along at Ned Malone's insistence, and had proved a popular alternative to liquor while in the bush, hunting. They usually saved the hard drinks for later, after putting away the guns, as they awaited dinner at a large folding table in front of their tents. All blessed George Challenger's battery-operated field refrigerator, which kept food cold in the back of a truck. Without it, they could not have taken the potato salad far from camp, or kept sandwiches and other snacks cool for hours. (In camp, he used a small petrol-powered generator to recharge the refrigerator.)

But when the safari approached the "lion Kill" after lunch, they found something quite else. They pulled up a distance off, not seeing lions, which might have paused in eating to shelter in the bush and thorn scrub. Blacklaws stopped his car and signaled for a halt. He got Challenger's attention and called, "I say, George, can you have a look at that scene with your big glass? Something looks odd there."

The professor nodded, had Finn pass him his Zeiss 15X60 binocular and braced his elbows on the fender of his car for steadiness as he adjusted the focus and strived to distinguish detail where vultures and jackals squabbled over the remains of whatever had died. He stiffened and said, "I'm afraid that we have more here than the ladies expected. If I'm not mistaken, the victims here were human. From what I can see in that mass of greedy diners, it looks like three Africans met their end here. This may be the work of bandits or followers of that damned witch doctor with whom we sparred a couple of weeks ago." (He referred to the events of, "A Lion Comes", in which Marguerite had shown her hidden talents as Morrighan to predict that a Kikuyu shaman who had raised a bloody rebellion would be found in two pieces. Her prediction had come true, his screaming body being bitten precisely in half by an angry hippo. This had much enhanced Marguerite's reputation among their Africans as a _juju_ woman. Alas, "A Lion Comes" is no longer on the Net, due to another board having closed.)

Now, wary of _shufta_ (bandits) the group passed out rifles and advanced cautiously, each car covering the other, leaving the truck with their Africans behind.

But they found no bandits, and approached the bodies, Hamilton firing his rifle into the noisy scavengers. He knocked over a black-backed jackal, and the rest of the macabre feasters scrambled away, uttering loud protests at being displaced.

Casting about carefully as others covered them with ready rifles, Blacklaws and Lord Roxton decided that these three dead men were Nandi warriors. Their bodies were largely consumed, but remnants of their tribal dress and their nearby spears told of their origins.

"Look at those skulls," muttered Roxton. "They've been hacked open by some sharp object. Geoff, this doesn't look like the work of hyenas, and none are here yet. And the brains are gone! Is this the work of cannibals?"

"Probably not," replied the white hunter. "Look at the ground, John. No human footprints. Instead, there are those strange prints leading out of the overall mess here. They look rather human, but clearly aren't. Much larger, too. If I had to guess, I'd say they resemble the tracks of a bear. But we haven't got any bears here!"

"Yes, there are!" exclaimed Finn Challenger. "This is right where the Nandi bear legends originated! And they're notorious for killing men and just eating their brains!" She was excited, looking toward a cavern a hundred yards distant, her thumb ready to flick off the safety to her .275 Rigby rifle.

"Really, Darling," Challenger was disgusted and amused. He knew his wife's fascination with the lurid tale of the Nandi bear, which he thought was utter nonsense, although white settlers as well as natives had reported seeing it.

"She may have a point, George," said Lady Roxton. "If nothing else, if we ascribe the carnage here to the mythical bear, it'd help to sell Finny's next book. Some good ought to come of this ghastly event. "

"I'm afraid that we'll have to let the D.C. (District Commissioner) or the police decide what happened here," explained Blacklaws. "This may be murder by rival tribesmen. But I must say, I can't account for those tracks. Look here, John, will you go with me if I follow up that spoor (trail sign)?"

Roxton agreed to accompany the professional hunter, and a black named Chege came along to carry a lantern. The Challengers insisted on following, ready to give covering fire if they were ambushed by poachers or just plain murderers. The Hamiltons and Ned Malone stayed with the cars, to protect the remaining ladies and their property.

As the first party approached the dark entrance to the huge cave, something shot past them with a frightening howl and plunged toward some rocks along the path. The men were so startled that they couldn't fire until the animal was beyond them. Finn swung up the beautiful Rigby rifle, led the hurtling beast in the sights, and squeezed the trigger much as she'd have done when wing shooting with her shotguns. She heard the report of her husband's powerful .450 Nitro Express Holland & Holland as she reached for the bolt handle to reload her own rifle.

The beast yelped and leaped high, only to fall in a struggling heap as Finn's second shot killed it.

"Eh, _piga __m__'__zuri __sana,__mem__'__Sahib_!" called Chege, grinning widely. It was not for nothing that Mrs. Challenger had gained the African nickname of Mem'Sahib Bunduki: Lady Gun. Chege was right. It was indeed a very good shot that she had made on the running animal.

The hunters carefully approached the carcass, rifles at the ready. But it was quite dead.

"What the bleeding devil of Hades incarnate is that thing?" snarled Roxton.

It looked like a heavily built hyena, the jaws open in a final grimace of pain. But it had only odd scraps of fur and looked to have been suffering long before expensive English bullets had terminated its life.

"I do believe that we are seeing a really big hyena with a bad case of mange," pronounced the tall scientist. "I say, Darling, that was a fine shot. I'm unsure whether I hit it."

"You did, Genius," said his spouse. "I saw it flinch right after it rolled from my first shot. The whole hindquarters jerked to the right. That had to be your shot. Nothing that size takes a .450 bullet and doesn't show it. Look, right there: see the blood where you broke its back just above the hips?"

As the Challengers spoke, another big animal shot from behind the rocks and shuffled quickly into the cave. The Challengers couldn't fire without risk of hitting the other party, and they didn't see the animal until it entered the cavern mouth from behind sheltering brush and stones.

"My oath! What was that great thing?" exclaimed Blacklaws. "Did you see that, John? Chege, light the lantern. We'd better get in after it or we'll lose it. If that wasn't a bear, I'm baffled as to what it might be."

Roxton paused to examine the tracks just left. Three footprints were on soft ground and one was particularly clear. "Looks like a bear to me, and I've hunted them in Canada and the US," he allowed. "But there are no claw marks."

"Exactly so," agreed the male Challenger as he and Finn ran up to the spoor of the strange beast. "Bears are plantigrade animals; they walk flat-footed, rather as we do. But they leave claw marks, like dogs do. Only cats, save for the cheetah, walk with their claws retracted into their feet. This thing seems to have both ursine and feline qualities. It leaped rather like a cat, too, more agile than a bear. But it looked like a bear, too. How weird is that?"

Finn was jubilant. "I told you, Genius. Didn't I, Johnny? We just found the Nandi bear. It's no myth!" She did a little dance that amused the men, especially as she wiggled a bit just to watch their male reaction to her graceful body twisting in delight at their discovery. She wished that she had worn shorts that day, but she was interesting to behold, even in the female version of the khaki trousers that the men wore.

George Challenger rolled his eyes, "Finn, that will be enough of that in public. We had better wait here while John and Geoff see if they can find that thing. Look for a rear exit to that cave, not that we can stray far. We need to be here for our friends if they call us."

The other men waited while Chege got the lantern going, then walked into the cave. They didn't get far.

Several hundred feet into the darkness, they heard a challenging snarl, full of menace and grim intent. Blacklaws suddenly wondered if the report of his .465 H&H double-barreled rifle might dislodge any hanging rocks. Roxton's .416 Rigby was at least as loud, making him wonder about the effect on their hearing, too. Shots would echo loudly in this confined space.

The decision as to what to do next was settled by fate. As they heard a shuffling sound accompanied by a growl, an alarmed Chege dropped the lantern as he stumbled over a rock on the cave floor. The lantern fell with a crash of breaking glass and the light went out!

Roxton drew a pocket torch (British for flashlight) and suggested urgently that they withdraw while they could. His advice was quickly taken; Blacklaws pausing only to have Chege recover the lantern, minus its shattered glass mantle. He had spare mantles and paraffin (kerosene) in camp, and lanterns were worth repairing.

Back at the cars, they decided to have Susan photograph the dead men, or what remained of them. Their weapons and tattered clothing were wrapped and placed in the truck. Hamilton had thrown rocks and sticks to keep aggressive scavengers at bay until the advance party returned from the cave, or even these grisly remains would have been further ravaged. Susan took enough photos for Finn's next book and some for Crown evidence She was careful to get photos of the tracks, leaning to cast shadow onto them to reveal detail on the few really clear impressions. There was nothing left to do but have their Africans dig a mass grave for the unfortunate Nandi men and stack small boulders atop it to keep hyenas from finishing what was left of three human lives.

"We had better send for the DC or the police tomorrow before we tell the Nandi tribesmen what happened here," mused Hamilton. "The DC may want the spears and robes for evidence, so we can't return them to their kin. Pity. As soon as we're cleared to do so, we'll stop by the nearest village and see who's missing. I don't fancy telling the relatives what happened here, and the Nandi bear aspect will carry a huge _juju_ complication with it. I think I'll just let the police _askaris_ or one of their white officers announce the deaths to the natives."

It was a glum group that returned to base camp that evening. They cleaned the guns that had been fired and showered before dinner, which lifted their spirits considerably. Joseph, their Swahili headman, had had the cook prepare a succulent selection of francolin grouse and venison from Thomson's gazelles shot the day before. Superb wines stood ready, Chateau Latour from Bordeaux for the red meat, and a delightful Chablis Premiere Cru for the fowl dish. Marguerite looked at the label of the Chablis, noting that the _negociant_ (businessman-shipper) in Burgundy was the famous Joseph Drouhin.

Roxton leaned over her shoulder and approved. "M. Drouhin was a war hero when we both fought the _boche_ a decade ago," he said with respect.

As they ate, the safari discussed the events of the day. "Tomorrow, I'll take Diana and a boy or two and go find the DC," said Stuart Hamilton. "The rest of you lot may as well shoot some game for camp. We need to stay here until the officials tell us to clear off. Then, we'll get on to Diana's father's place and shoot a big leopard and a nice buff or three and whatever antelope you still want before we have to get you visitors back to Nairobi. I know where to find some record book Lesser Kudu and Bushbuck on the way to the Hardy farm. And we can get in some fishing at a lake en route to Nairobi, too. Good likelihood of taking bream and even tiger fish. Nile perch, too. (By "bream", he meant tilapia.) That suit everyone?"

It did, and they readied for bed, most laying loaded rifles by their cots. Apart from the mythical "bear", lions and hyenas were known to enter safari camps.

Finn was keen to kill the "bear", to report the adventure and the new species in her book, for she had long been intrigued by the legend of this supposedly mythical animal. It had been reported by white settlers as well as by natives, and she was convinced that there might be something to the rumors of its existence. Now she knew first hand that there was more than myth to the issue. She didn't have much trouble convincing George that they should strive to kill the beast, for he wanted to be the first to describe it for Science. Both Challengers were supportive of each other, being quite proud of their mates. Finn cuddled next to her beloved Genius and pulled his right arm over her waist. "I just hope that I sleep tonight, Lover. This stuff has me almost as excited as what you do to me in bed. I mean, when we don't go right to sleep." She lifted his arm and kissed his hand as he chuckled.

"I rather fancy that you'd better get your beauty sleep, Finn," he answered "We have to be up early if we're to shoot enough game for meat and still figure how to get at that strange creature. By Jove, how I would relish telling skeptics that we have proof of its existence! Not to mention, it would be wonderful to see you kneeling by it in your book, rifle in hand. Susan would be so proud of you. It goes without saying how happy I'd be for you."

Finn purred, shifted her desirable bottom to snuggle it firmly next to her man's groin and said goodnight. But it was a while before she managed to sleep, her thoughts racing as fast as her heart.

In the next tent, Marguerite Roxton lay nervously by her lord. "You're going to do it, aren't you? Go after that bloody monster while Stuart is away. And Finny is going to help you! I know you two, and she'll seduce George into going along with it. Please, John: for once, use common sense and let terrible things lie. I waited for years to meet you, then to get off of that blasted Plateau so that we could live a decent life together. Don't risk everything for your sense of adventure and any obligation you may feel to Finn to help her get that thing into her books."

Roxton took her hand and squeezed it. "I'll be careful, Marguerite. And I won't let Finn take any unreasonable chances, nor will George. He loves her too much. There's considerable truth in her boast about them having the love of the ages, the romance of the centuries. If he tells her what she can and can't do, she may argue a bit, but she'll obey him. She takes enormous pride in being a dutiful wife. And I have no intention of leaving you a young widow. I'm no fool, and neither is Finny. Besides, we can't put our white hunters in a position where they may lose their professional licenses if they let us do anything too dangerous. But if we can reasonably get that thing, we will. Now, go to sleep, unless you'd rather roll over on your back and see how much fun I can make you have. I guarantee to wear you out. You'll sleep soundly when I'm done with you, I wager." He smiled in the darkness, and caressed her trigger points until she squirmed in growing passion.

"Promise? Give me what Finn insists on calling the Big O and I'll let you two do your best at Nandi bear hunting. But I'll worry, John. I trust you Gun People not to do anything too stupid. OOoh, ah! Yes, do that, faster. Oh, John, YES! Oh, drat you, Roxton! How am I supposed to worry about Nandi bears when you light up my whole existence with what you're doing to me?"

And so Marguerite was appeased until she slept, almost free of nightmares. And when one flared, John held her and kissed her tenderly back to sleep, telling her that he would never leave her a widow, whatever he might want to stalk with his adventurous "little sister".

Dawn came all too early as the personal boy scratched at the tent entrance and called, _"__Mimi __lette __chai, __Bwana, __mem__'__Sahib!__" _(I bring tea, master and mistress.)

The same occurred simultaneously at the Challenger tent, and Finn rose groggily, shivering in the morning cold as she shrugged into a dark green robe to cover her nakedness and untied the tent flap. Jerogi, their personal attendant, brought in the folding table and a blue ceramic pot of hot tea with fresh croissants, butter, and the blackberry preserves that George Challenger cherished.

When she had poured tea in their cups and readied his first croissant, Finn ran a tickling hand along her mate's leg until he grudgingly rose and took his Robe of Many Colors from her. Finn had found this robe at Harrods's a week before they left on safari, and both Challengers liked the way it looked on the distinguished scientist, dark green with paired maroon and gold stripes at intervals over its surface. It was thick and he appreciated the warmth it afforded in the pre-dawn day at this altitude.

At breakfast, the group agreed to check the bear's probable den in hopes that it had come out during the night and they might ambush it in the open.

None of the African staff wanted to come with them, muttering direly of _juju. _The fear of the unknown and of black magic was heavily upon them. Finally, Joseph, who was Muslim, convinced a few of the blacks to go in the cars. By noon, the explorers had circled the _kopje _(stony hill) and found other bear-like tracks and were even more sure that they must have encountered a new species.

"Do you want photos of the tracks, ma'am?" asked Susan.

Finn nodded, looking thoughtful. "Genius, let's pose by the tracks with the hill in the background, It will look great in the next book." And the Challengers and Susan Wilson dismounted to take the photographs.

Roxton offered to take pictures of all of them, so that Susan could be included. She blushed, for it would be a real treat to be seen in the book. She felt ten feet tall standing by Mrs. Challenger, who was her heroine, as well as her employer. Two years before, Susan had been a lowly bank clerk in Nairobi, just getting by, with no particular prospects of better. An orphan after her father's death from alcoholism, she had never thought to be where she was today, and she shivered slightly as she considered how much better her life had become.

"As long as we're stranded here while Finny makes her next volume come alive for the peasants to read, I want tea. Anyone else fancy a cup?" Marguerite always saw tea as the solution to boredom and something to enjoy before entering a dangerous situation. Besides, it tasted good, and uplifted her spirits!

"Sounds good to me, but why not go park in the shade as soon as they're done and eat lunch?" Ned Malone was hungry and they might as well eat here as anywhere. There was no telling where the bear or bears might be, but he doubted that one would be out in the noonday sun.

"Oh, look, Neddy!" exclaimed his wife. "There's another big eagle. Hand me my binocular."

"I'm not too sure about this bird watching," grumbled the Countess. "It was you people watching that other eagle and then those damned carrion crows that got us into this mess."

Holly stepped out of the cover of the car and lifted her own binocular. "Oh, Geoff, look," she called to her husband. "It's a Tawny eagle, and a big one!"

Even Marguerite was impressed by the big raptor soaring on the air currents and the photo taking was interrupted as the Challengers, Susan, and both Roxtons also grabbed for their binoculars and followed the bird until it landed in a tree a hundred yards distant.

"That is a magnificent sight," admitted an admiring Prof. Challenger.

"Bwana, look," pointed Karanja, a Kikuyu skinner. "See how the grass moves? I think this means that lions are there."

"Of course they are," said Marguerite. "Why shouldn't they be? Can this day possibly get any better? "

A pride of a dozen lions emerged from the long grass, headed for Ned's shade tree. The hunters watched them, then got back into their cars and prepared to leave, the photos taken.

"Looks as if we'll need to locate another spot for lunch," said Geoff, rather dryly. "If we hang around here, we might be on the menu."

"That'll never do," responded the Countess. "Being eaten is bad for my complexion. I can't have that. This scorching sun is my limit."

Chuckling at her droll humor, the others got aboard the cars and sought a more tranquil setting for an _al __fresco _meal. But Finn looked thoughtfully at the tracks as she handed the camera tripod to Roxton and she and he exchanged a meaningful look. With luck, by this evening, they might sight whatever animal was leaving those signs of its passage.

Following lunch, they scoured the savannah for signs of the bear, to no avail. On the way back to camp, they took time to shoot antelope on two occasions. Once, Roxton and Marguerite shot two impala and Finn and Susan scored with their .275 Rigbys on Thomson's gazelles. Plenty of meat for camp, unless the DC came with more than one truck full of his native police. But the _askaris_ should have their own rations. Or their white officer would shoot meat on an official victualing permit.

They field-dressed the game and got it under white canvas on the truck, to keep the heat and flies off the meat, and steered for home. They were a mile from camp when they saw a kopje that Challenger wanted to mine with his small animal traps. He was interested in catching new mice, voles, and other small creatures that might be new to Science. He had traps that were cages, knowing that regular traps would too likely just hold an animal until a predator consumed it before he returned to check the traps.

"All right," agreed Geoff, "but hurry and set those traps. I don't want to risk the meat spoiling in this heat, and we need to be back at camp to greet the DC and his lot when they arrive."

They pulled up at the foot of the rocky hill and George got his traps and his .450 double-barreled rifle. He took Jerogi to carry the traps, leaving his own hands free to shoot if danger threatened. Finn came, of course, and Susan and the Roxtons. Susan chose a 20 gauge Remington Model 17 slide-action shotgun in lieu of a rifle and Marguerite also took a shotgun, an expensive double from James Purdey & Sons, one of London's finest custom gunmakers. It and an identical mate had been wedding gifts from her husband, and the guns had been made to measure for her. (Author's note: Purdey guns continue to be made only to order. They are shockingly expensive.)

John raised his eyebrows on seeing his bride load the 12 gauge, usually used for birds and rabbits. "That damned hill looks 'snaky' to me," she explained. "If I have to shoot an angry mamba or cobra, I want a whole shot charge of pellets on my side, not a single rifle bullet that might miss."

They shouldered their weapons, water bottles, and binoculars and scaled the hill, joined at the last minute by M'bili, a skinner. He explained that he wanted to see how far he could see from the summit of the small mountain. Blacklaws thought he more likely was bored and curious

The Malones and Holly prepared for a wait, Ned breaking out a cool bottle of Canada Dry ginger ale and toasting the ladies with a raised glass. Veronica and Holly laughed. The Africans lounged in the truck bed, one going to sleep as the other carved a wooden animal sculpture to sell to safari customers.

Their world seemed at peace on this halcyon afternoon. No one had any idea that all hell was about to break loose.

Challenger paused to set his fourth trap, and M'bili and Jerogi said they wanted to range ahead and explore. Blacklaws warned them to stay together and to watch for venomous snakes. Marguerite and Susan also wanted to venture ahead, and Roxton said that he'd slowly follow them, so as not to interrupt their girl talk. It seemed that Marguerite was working her way up to offering to take Susan to a fancy London dressmaker on their return to Britain. The Roxtons were fond of Finn's secretary, who had proven to be a brave and eager companion. She was cheerful, and had Finn's lust to learn about the wilderness and its denizens. And Roxton shared her interest in photography. He had also bought Susan her .375 Magnum Holland & Holland rifle, too expensive a weapon for the girl to afford on her salary, although the Challengers were generous employers by the standards of the bank where she had formerly worked. The bank, in fact, directed by Holly's wealthy father… But the huge Roxton fortune easily eclipsed what George and Finn earned, and Marguerite felt motherly toward the lovely young blonde. She wanted to discuss fashion and how to deal with men, and Susan was an eager listener.

Roxton trailed the women, pausing to drink from his canteen and to raise his binocular to survey the terrain. He saw Ned and the women at the vehicles, and saw a faint trail of dust in the distance. Probably the Hamiltons returning with the District Commissioner and his wife and some police escorts. Blacklaws had said that the head cop, Inspector Ian Handley, was a nice bloke, and DC Peter Ross and his wife Janet were also pleasant people to know. Roxton looked forward to meeting more white Kenya residents. They would probably enliven dinner conversation, and the _askaris_ might enable them to surround the area by the cavern and smoke the bear out, or something.

It was at this point that the women heard some creature moving around on the rocky hillside above them. They stopped and Susan looked at the Countess. "Ma'am, are you loaded with birdshot or with slugs? That sounds like it might be something big above us. "

"Birdshot," Marguerite replied. "I borrowed some American shells loaded with what the Yanks call Number 6 shot, the sort of pellets that you might shoot pheasants or grouse with. I figure it'll pepper a snake right well, and send it off to Hell to join the serpent from the Garden of Eden, or wherever dead snakes go in the hereafter. I got the shells from Ned. "

Susan nodded. She had seen Ned use his Winchester M-12 shotgun to good effect as they hunted francolins, Guinea fowl, and sand grouse. But she wanted something more than shot shells now, in case whatever was up there on the slope above might be big and hungry.

Susan pumped out three shells from her Remington, replacing them with slug loads. Then they heard a black voice shouting for help in Swahili.

On the trail below, Roxton looked up at the sound of the voice and exchanged a sharp glance with Blacklaws, who had decided to join him. Then, they heard a shot, and Marguerite screamed, "John, get up here, now!"

Roxton grabbed his rifle and took off, howling, "Marguerite!"

The Challengers and their Kikuyu gun bearer raced after the Earl. Blacklaws wondered if Ned Malone and the women in the cars below were safe. What if this was an attack by hostile natives, or by the Nandi bear? They were about half a mile from the caverns where it was thought to live, but who knew how far it might wander, or how many there might be? Or, a leopard might have one of his Africans down. In those days, without easy access to antibiotics, a mauling by a big cat was a serious affair. One thing was certain: a call for help followed by the sound of a shot was not good news!

As if to punctuate that thought, two more shots shattered the air in quick succession!

Susan had just completed changing ammo when Marguerite led the way toward the sound of the voice. "That sounded like Jerogi," she murmured. Jerogi was a skinner; an artist at getting the heads of trophy animals prepared properly, especially the delicate cuts around the ears and noses. He was one of the happier blacks, often amusing even a couple of the sullen ones. He was popular with both his fellow Africans and the white hunters and their clients.

On turning a corner in the narrow path that was bordered by rocks, the women saw a horrible sight. A black was down, and his head was being chopped open by a savage beast, another waiting, probably to share in eating his brain. Both animals in the little clearing saw the women and charged at once, howling a terrifying screech that chilled the blood of Susan and Marguerite.

Susan fired into the chest of the leading animal and it was rocked back on its heels by the 20 gauge American slug. She pumped another shell into the barrel and raised the Remington to take a head shot if needed. But the shocked animal dropped dead as it tried to take another step toward the women.

Marguerite screamed for her husband and fired a quick left and right from both barrels into the second animal. She shot for the face, hoping to blind it, fearing that birdshot might not kill it. But the range was so close that by the time she fired the second barrel of the expensive Purdey gun, the shot charge had no time to separate and it hit the beast in the solar plexus with the shot still clumped together. The charging animal absorbed the impact of an ounce and a quarter of shot that drove in and dropped it.

No more had this animal fallen than they heard Lord Roxton call, "Marguerite!" and knew that he was coming. But another animal appeared from above, poised to jump onto the women, howling at the top of its lungs, turning Marguerite's blood to water as she fumbled to reload the double-barreled shotgun.

Susan swung up the Remington and fired, her slug smacking solidly into the heart of their assailant. It dropped dead even as it leaped for them.

Roxton and the others arrived as Susan was hastily loading more shells into the 20 gauge. "Look out," called Roxton, shooting a big animal as it charged for him, wielding a heavy branch as a weapon. The.375 Magnum bullet went through its body and whanged off a rock, ricocheting up the slope.

Still another beast came over a boulder, only to be met by fire from both Challengers. Their rifles killed it within three feet of Finn, who was leading, having run ahead of her mate on hearing Marguerite's call for help.

"Reload, everyone," cautioned Blacklaws as he arrived and took in what was happening. "No telling how many of these creatures there may be!"

"Bwana! Help me!" sounded again from a little farther up the trail, and Challenger and Roxton took a short cut around the boulder from which one of the animals had emerged as Finn saw to Marguerite and Susan. She stood with rifle ready as both wmen fumbled for shells and reloaded their shotguns.

The men saw Jerogi wielding his panga (like a South American machete), barely keeping another of the beasts at bay. Both Jerogi and the assailant were bleeding.

Roxton swung up his rifle and blew the beast's brain out as it snarled at him. Challenger motioned for Jerogi to join them and he limped over, now clutching his left forearm with his right hand to stop the flow of blood from a nasty bite wound.

They retreated to a clearing where they sat or stood in a circle, so that they could shoot in any direction as Challenger poured water from his canteen onto Jerogi's bite. Then, he took Roxton's red plaid neckerchief and bound the wound as best he could.

"This needs proper medical attention," he warned. "We need to get to the cars and the first aid kit. Marguerite, do you feel up to making a few stitches? This fellow has had a bad nip from some formidable teeth!"

"Before we wander off, we need to take an inventory. Who is missing, other than M'bili? I saw him down with his head hacked open and his brain half out." Blacklaws shuddered.

"We're all here. I just checked," said Marguerite. "But what on earth is happening? These things act like the Nandi bear has of late, but they're blasted chimpanzees, aren't they?"

"They certainly look it," mused Lord Roxton, who walked over and examined the body of one lying nearby. "Looks like we were ambushed by a group of maybe a dozen. I saw and heard several scampering off. Watch that they don't return."

Challenger was looking at the same animal as he helped the native to stand. "Yes, mature male chimps. They weigh almost as much as a man and would stand as tall as some if up on their hind legs. For some reason, this lot of them is very aggressive. Susan, I shall want photos as soon as we dress Jerogi's wound. But we dare not leave anyone up here now. We had better keep our force intact."

"George is right," declared the Earl, "but we need to treat Jerogi's arm and get that meat back to camp. I'll stay with Finn and Geoff if you others take Jerogi down to the car while Susan gets photos. We haven't time for many, but that Leica is compact and handy, and she can have most of the pictures needed within a few minutes."

"I'm not leaving Finn and Susan," said a testy Challenger. "Geoff can get him to the car. The way down seems clear, and we need our main strength here, in event of another attack. Marguerite, go with Geoff and use red wine from the car to thoroughly clean that wound before you stitch it. Then, use some of my salve from the medical kit on the injury before you bandage it."

Roxton nodded at his Countess. "Go, Marguerite. We'll be along soon. Watch that you let the ladies down there know that it's you coming before you blunder through the woods towards them. The last thing we need is for Holly or Veronica to think they're being attacked."

But as Geoff and Marguerite supported the wounded Kikuyu between them, they encountered both of the other women ascending the trail, rifles ready. After acknowledging one another, they all retreated to the vehicles, Holly and the Malones demanding answers.

As they came in sight of the car, they saw the two remaining Africans brandishing their pangas and shouting at some animal in the grass near the truck. They saw the whites with Jerogi and called out to Blacklaws.

"The boys say that an angry honey badger has driven them up into the truck bed and is about to rush them. It's growling something awful. Can't you hear that? Holly, nip down there and shoot it, if you please. We have no time to be delayed by something that fierce that may cause further injury to our party. I'd go myself, but I have to support Jerogi." (In addition to the bite on his arm, Jerogi had fallen and sprained an ankle, or he could have walked on his own.)

"Right, Geoff," said his wife, and she was quickly joined by Veronica, who was carrying her .303 sporting rifle. The ladies saw the grass moving as the honey badger came for them, snarling a sinister threat. Holly waited until it ran clear of the long grass. Then, being careful not to shoot toward the vehicles, she swung up her .350 Rigby Magnum and fired at the oncoming mustelid.

She barely missed the low, moving head as did Ned, who was using a hunting rifle built by Griffen & Howe on a military .30/06 Springfield action. But the latter's bullet burned a path across the badger's back and rolled it. The furious animal recovered as Ned and the women cycled their rifle bolts and scampered off into the grass before they could shoot again.

"Well, that's that," breathed a nervous Holly. "But we'd better keep an eye out for it to come back. Those are determined animals. And I'm sure that it smells the dead antelope in the truck and wants our meat."

"I saw that," exclaimed Marguerite Roxton in a moment as they walked the injured native over to the lead hunting car. "Sort of proves what they say, eh? In Africa, everything bites!"

They sat Jerogi down and gave him water, then Marguerite got the sewing things ready as Blacklaws assured the uneasy black that mem'Sahib _Kifaru_ was about to repair his wound. (The Africans called Marguerite Roxton _mem'Sahib __Kifaru_ for her sometimes bad temper, which reminded them of the rhino, called _Kifaru_ in Swahili.) Jerogi was afraid of her as a healer, muttering, "Mem'Sahib Marguerite, _juju _woman."

But she smiled cheerfully at her patient and said. "Well, besides casting spells and seeing the future, I am a great healer. Geoff, draw the cork on that wine bottle, and watch that you don't use more than needed on this arm. That happens to be a Chateau Mouton-Rothschild at its peak, and I fancy having some later, with dinner."

Holly hounded Geoff for answers as soon as she was sure that he was unharmed. And when he had told her what they had encountered, assisted in places by Lady Roxton, she said, "Chimps! I've seen them in the zoo, but I'd have thought this was more like baboons."

"They were definitely chimps, and jolly big ones," promised her husband. "And not only were they not in the zoo, they were here, where they shouldn't be! What the devil is going on?"

Working quickly but carefully, Marguerite got Jerogi's bite stitched shut and smeared a liberal dollop of George Challenger's medicinal salve over the wound before she bandaged it. She promised Jerogi that this was powerful "_muti", _medicine.

In the meantime, Blacklaws had wrapped the damaged ankle after feeling it carefully to be sure that it wasn't broken. "That'll be a bother for a couple of weeks, Jerogi, so take it easy. And don't use that arm more than need be. I'll find some easy work for you around camp."

"_Assante __sana, __Bwana_," said Jerogi. (Many thanks.) He had sat still as Marguerite sewed him up, the stoic lack of reaction to pain so typical of the African impressing the Countess as she ran needle and thread along the gaping edges of the wound, trying to keep the bleeding from impeding her work.

"There," she said, as she completed bandaging the injury, watched with keen interest by the other two safari "boys." "That's all better now."

There was the sound of a shot from above, and the whites all reached for their guns. But there were no further shots fired, and soon, the remaining members of their party scampered down off of the hill and approached the vehicles.

"I shot a puff adder," bragged an exultant Susan Wilson. "It was almost close enough to bite Prof. Challenger when I saw it and let it have a slug from my Remington. In case you've been wondering about the effect of a 20 ga. shotgun slug on a big viper, I can tell you, the effect is considerable! It blew that snake right off of the path and several feet away!"

Marguerite smiled at the enthusiastic lass. "That was in fact what I've been wondering all day," she deadpanned. "My thoughts were consumed with that very issue." She rolled down the sleeves to her blue shirt, which she had rolled up while she treated Jerogi's injury.

"Liar," laughed Finn. "But Susan saw the thing first and she was wonderful. Just swung up the gun and blasted it before it could strike the Genius or me." Finn's eyes were excited and she was glowing with pride, for she shared Susan's joy. And she had good new material for her next book!

"I told you that hill looked 'snaky'," reminded Marguerite, rising to take her spouse's .375 rifle and hug him.

"I'll go back up the hill with a couple of boys and recover M'bili's body," said Blacklaws. "The DC and Inspector Handley will need to see it, and if we leave it, the scavengers will get it. I don't want that happening to my staff. Among other obvious issues, it's bad for morale."

Holly pointed to the sky. "We'd better hurry, Darling. The _n'dege _are already gathering. Won't be long before the jackals and the hyenas arrive." And everyone saw the vultures circling above.

They got Jerogi settled in the truck and stashed their gear in the hunting cars. Roxton scrubbed off Jerogi's bloody panga and dried it for him.

"That's a genuine Martindale panga," he commented. "Be a pity for it to rust and these Africans haven't a lot of money to buy new bush knives. Geoff or Stuart probably gave that to him."

"That was sweet of you, Johnny," said Finn. "Look, I'm pretty dry after all of this fun in the sun. Have we got any ginger ale left?"

They did, and Holly passed bottles of it to Finn and to Susan. She distributed beers to Roxton and to the male Challenger.

Marguerite gave Finn an amused glance. "Be careful, Finny," she teased. "You don't want to become addicted to strong drink."

The Backlaws couple - Holly had insisted on accompanying Geoff and two Africans- were about halfway up the hill when they heard a car horn hoot from the savannah below. They paused and Holly got her binocular out of its case and scanned the incoming vehicles. "Geoff, it's the DC and Inspector Handley. They have about a dozen askaris in the truck behind them."

The newcomers soon joined the Blacklaws duo and said that Roxton had briefed them on what to expect. "We saw the vultures circling, and decided to see if the Nandi bear had struck again," explained Peter Ross, his wife Janet at his side. "I gather that Miss Wilson has gotten photos, and she is said to be very good at that. But we'll need some official ones before you move that boy's body. Ian, set up your camera, and lets' hurry. They have meat for camp that will spoil if we aren't done here soon. You burying the boy around here, Geoff? It's plain to see what happened to him. There's no question of homicide."

"Yes," said Blacklaws. "I'll have the other Africans dig a decent grave a few hundred yards from camp and pack it with stones to keep old _Fisi_ from the remains." (Hyenas were notorious for digging up graves.) "Prof. Challenger wanted to read a Christian service for M'bili, but I explained that it would do no good, as he was of his tribal faith. N'gai on Mt. Kenya, and all that, you know. Most of my string of boys are tribal in their worship, and the others are Mohammedan. Still, it was nice of Challenger to offer. These clients are among my best ever. I shall hate to see them leave. I wish that all were as decent as this lot." Holly concurred, saying that the women, in particular, were more pleasant than most.

They did what they had to do, assisting Handley and his black sergeant in getting pictures, then they bore poor M'bili's body down in a blanket with as much care as they could manage.

Back in camp, the antelope were quickly prepared, with the white hunters assisting two native skinners as the others dug M'bili's grave 500 yards from the safari. A specialist skinner prepared the hide and head of the record book impala taken by Susan Wilson. The lyre-like horns intrigued Susan and she lingered for a time, talking with Geoff and Stuart and Moses, the trophy preperation skinner. She was very interested, but also just needed to talk to someone to discharge her high-strung emotions.

The clients, the hunters' wives, and the Rosses gratefully accepted tea and harder drinks from the personal boys. All were emotionally stressed by the day's events, and Marguerite had all but forgotten her earlier need to "lie down". But Roxton sensed her distress and led her to their tent after she had downed two gin and tonics

"You need to relax, Countess," he murmured, massaging her neck and stiff shoulders. She shivered, but welcomed his hands on her and just attaining simple privacy.

"Easily said," she challenged, " though today was a bit of a drain on me. But don't neglect to work wonders with your magical fingers, Darling. I may be a Druidic sorceress, but it's you whose hands ease all sorts of problems. Do carry on. We have over an hour before supper."

She soon relaxed and let her head lie on his shoulder as he kissed her neck and held her right hand, stroking the palm and gently squeezing it, feeling the tension drain from her.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable out of those hot clothes?" he wondered.

"Probably," she conceded. "Here, take my gun and set it on the trunk over there." She unbuckeled the dark brown leather belt that carried her holster, spare .38 ammunition, and her hunting knife. The latter was made expressly for her by the celebrated firm of Wostenholm, a Bowie style with a seven-inch blade and ivory handle with nickel silver hilt and pommel. The throat and chape of the leather sheath were silver, and the style reminded her husband a little of her supposed Druidic origins. Marguerite had once limited herself to carrying only the flick knife that she had taken from the late Avery Burton. But after having had a splendid dagger made for her use in Druidic ceremonies, even if mostly in their fantasy games, she had insisted on getting several expensive hunting knives.

Her husband noticed that she rotated these according to mood and what she expected of a given day. He suspected that they were not only functional knives, but fashion accessories. But he was relieved that she would now have a good knife to assist her survival if she ever got lost. She had done that once on the Plateau in Brazil, and the value of a suitable knife had not been lost on her.

She handed him the Swiss Army utility pocketknife from the pocket of her skirt. A gift from Finn, it accomplished any work too fine or otherwise unsuitable for her belt knife. She had found the screwdriver and can opener blades very handy, and the corkscrew had once saved them from an emergency when the regular one had been left behind in camp. Finn had passed out several of these to her husband and closest friends after a Swiss vacation and they were so handy and useful that she had had to give spares to both white hunters.

Finally, Marguerite slipped her fingers into the top of her left boot and removed the Burton switchblade, as Americans called flick knives.  
>She passed it also to John.<p>

With a coy smile, she slipped off her boots and stood, hands raised. "It seems that you have completely disarmed me, Lord Roxton. I surrender. I am totally your prisoner until they call us to dinner. Care to molest me? I'll make it worth your while."

Roxton stood against her and pulled her hands behind her, holding her wrists with one big hand while playing with her with his other.  
>After kissing her moist, parted lips for a few moments, he used his free hand to unfasten her skirt. She stepped out of it when it hit the tent floor, and his nimble fingers made short work of the buttons on her periwinkle blouse.<p>

"You have to release my wrists if you're going to divest me of my remaining raiment," she whispered, her breath coming faster as he caressed her.

"Um," he replied. "Just promise to use your hands creatively. Remember, I know that you are the most sensual woman to have ever lived, and I expect you to prove that this afternoon. I think we could both use your erotic talents to help us unwind."

She slipped off the blouse and pressed against him as he toyed with the dual hooks at the back of her pushup bra. It and the panties had been selected to match the color of her blouse. Then, she felt herself lifted in his mighty arms and carried to their bed.

Flushed, she looked into his eyes with her own deep green ones and asked, "Now what, O Mighty Hunter?"

"If you can't guess, you'll soon learn," he promised.

As it happened, she could guess most of what came, but welcomed each tiny bit of his ardor, his talented hands and more probing her weakness, arousing her to moan loudly enough that her female friends later teased her about it. And the worst threat to her happiness was aborted when Veronica took Finn by the arm and steered her back to the table and away from the Roxton tent.

"Hey, I need to ask Johnny something," protested the trim blonde beauty.

"Not right now, you don't," said her amused "sister." "Marguerite has need of him for awhile. Why don't you let George take you to your own tent and see if you can figure out what the Roxtons might be doing just now?"

Finn looked crossly at her friend, then a slow grin suffused her features. "I need to get the Genius to tell me what to wear for dinner, anyway," she suggested, and went over to the table and offered her hand to Challenger. "Take me to our tent, George. I want to get your opinion about some dresses. I want to look special for dinner."

Challenger interrupted telling Malone and the Rosses why he thought the wayward chimpanzees had attacked them. "This will keep for an hour or so, Ned. I see that my presence is required elsewhere. As a married man, I am sure that you will see where my duty lies."

Finn blushed and looked very shy as she put her hand in his and said with a glance that she wanted to be led away. Which she was, to good effect as soon as they had tied shut the door of their safari home.

"Well, that was a bit direct of her," commented Peter Ross. "I trust that whatever they do in there helps to defuse her, though. We've had a rather eventful day."

"Quite so," agreed Ian Handley. "Boy! _Letti __ginni __kwa __bwana_!" ("Bring a gin to the bwana!")

Janet Ross said, "I think I'll have some of that tea, Veronica. There will be enough wine at supper to ease my nerves. I expect we all have our ways of dealing with things like what happened to us and to poor M'bili. But I can't wait to read Mrs. Challenger's account of this in her next book. To think that we have done the things of which such adventure tales are composed! Peter, Darling, maybe we should delay requesting that posting to Jamaica. I'm beginning to like it here. This is a place that grows on one, and the memories of today will be with us forever."

Holly Blacklaws smiled. "I wouldn't live anywhere else, if I was a millionaire. This life is so natural, so primeval and basic and real. To have this and Geoff by my side makes me wonder how much more wonderful even Heaven could be. I'm a lucky girl, and now, an excited one. Can you believe what was causing people to think that there was a bear here?"

"I can after seeing it," commented Stuart, a bit tersely. He walked over behind Diana and tugged her hair. "I'm glad that we have beauty here to offset the grimmer side of life. Joseph! How much longer until we eat?"

The headman tried to think how best to say in minutes. Like most Africans, he had difficulty expressing time as whites did. "Maybe so in two cups of tea, if you sip slow, Bwana. Not long. The meat, he is almost done, says the cook, and the potatoes and carrots."

In her tent, Lady Roxton heard and asked softly, "Are you almost done, too, Lord Roxton? If the cook has done his job as well as you have, I'm going to feel very fulfilled tonight."

"Give me the time that it takes to sip those two cups of tea slowly, Marguerite. I think you're going to be so fulfilled that you'll be starry-eyed all through dinner. You probably won't even remember what you ate." He chuckled and resumed his attentions to her.

And Marguerite soon wondered if he wasn't right. It was true that she later had to concentrate to pay attention to her friends. But she felt both refreshed and dreamy, and sat very close to her husband and looked often at him as the group discussed the events of that remarkable day. She even buttered his bread and insisted on pouring his wine, herself. And when Finn, clad now in a white sundress with gold and green flowers on it, grinned at her, Marguerite blushed, but refused to be teased for her devotion to her man. Let the others discuss chimpanzees and mythical bears. Marguerite had gotten her antidote to the violence of the afternoon, and felt pleasure in telling her lord softly, "I love you, John. This was a filthy day in some ways, but you made the world bright and new and wonderful for me again."

He took her hand under the table and she was a content woman. She even decided to listen to what Challenger was saying about something called a hand axe that he hadn't realized that chimps could make. But she reserved some of her attention to speculate whether the blue and white floral dress that she wore competed well with Finn's little sundress, which was almost scandalous for that day. Finny was _such _an exhibitionist...

"These are very primitive tools," the famed scientist explained. "They are made by taking a rock and flaking away the lower portions to a sharp edge, while leaving the upper surface as it was, to afford a safe handhold. These hand axes were sharp enough and heavy enough that they could be used to pound open even bones, letting the primitive man using it obtain the marrow from kills made by predators. Hyenas sometmes crack bones, but most other scavengers just eat the meat and leave. Of course, the hand axe could also be used to butcher a kill, or to pound in the head of an animal. They got through those human skulls quite easily. Chimps are strong animals, and if one becomes a threat, it is very dangerous."

Finn thought of the way that the late M'bili's head had looked as the chimp had pulled the brain from it and shuddered. "But Genius, could these animals make those tools? Man has been defined as 'the tool-using animal'. Doesn't it take human intelligence to do something that complex, especially if they flake the edge really sharp?"

Challenger shrugged. "Such tools are the oldest made by our early ancestors, some perhaps not yet fully human. Perhaps they found some hand axes that have lain here through millenia. Paleoanthropologists seem to think that Man arose in Asia, but certainly, there were some very early ones here. I read an article by some fellow named Raymond Dart, who has discovered a protohuman skull in South Africa. Some of his peers are amused by it, and call his find 'the South African darter'. They write it off as just another ancient ape.  
>But I've met some of those chaps, and they are rather full of themselves. After examining Dart's case, I rather think he's onto something." (Author's note: Of course, Challenger -and Raymond Dart- were correct. Scientists now overwhelmingly believe that humans arose in southern and eastern Africa. However, in the 1920's, even such formidable men as Dr. Roy Chapman Andrews of the American Museum of Natural History were pursuing evidence that suggested Asian origins.)<p>

"Probably, even primitive men were more capable than we sometimes think," said Hamilton. "After all, even modern women at times do intelligent things, to my amazement." He looked at Diana out of the corner of his eye, a smile on his lips.

"Yeah, even us blondes," interjected Veronica. "But maybe I am dumb, to have waited as long as I did to realize what a great catch Ned is." She leaned over and kissed her husband, who glowed.

"More than likely, you recalled your experiences with men in general and were just being cautious," offered Janet Ross. She smiled slightly as her husband colored.

"I'm a smart blonde," joked Finn. "I saw pretty quickly what an icon the Genius is, and that he might even really care for little old me. Once I was fairly confident that he wouldn't reject me outright, I set my sights on him, and now, I'm the happiest wife of all time. It feels good to set records like that." She smiled at Challenger and took his arm in hers and squeezed.

"I suppose that if an attractive postadolescent blonde worships a man obviously enough, she might indeed get his attention. Where else would George get a beautiful bimbo who fawns over him and tells everyone that she has the Romance of the Ages, the Love of All Time?" Marguerite was amused and she was looking for revenge after seeing the way that her blonde friends and others had looked at her as she arrived for dinner. She had been rather embarrassed at their knowing looks, as if she had left the tent door open while Roxton had his way with her. Finn had gotten somewhat the same reception, but she had just blushed and grinned at the looks the other women sent her way. Marguerite Roxton was more private and sensitive about people knowing when she had been pleasured, and would be horrified to admit the extent to which she often succumbed to her man's advances. Like a desperate cat in heat, in a back alley, she thought and flushed in a mixture of pride and shame.

"Marguerite is just jealous of Finn because she's blonde," teased Veronica. "Both of them have marriages almost as good as mine." She leaned her head on Ned's shoulder and he reached over and stroked her hair. Veronica purred theatrically, to general laughter.

"Well, look here," said Lord Roxton. "Getting back to the issue, I want one of those hand axes, for my cutlery collection. And I have an interest in ancient men. But how will we ever know whether they were made by chimps or by primitive pre-humans?"

"Tomorrow, with the sun high, we can examine the edges and the rocks in general under a magnifying glass," offered Challenger. "We can probably tell if the edges were recently chipped, although they could have just freshened marks that they found on those items. Geologists may be able to tell us the age of the rocks, but not when they were fashioned into tools or weapons. Still, I'll write a paper that suggests that modern chimps are able to use, perhaps make, such things. I'll probably be called a mad scientist again, but the matter is worth further study."

"And I'm worth another glass of that splendid wine," said Peter Ross. "Might I impose upon you for that?" He held out his glass, and Marguerite rose to pour for him. They had opened several bottles of the Mouton-Rothschild, the one in the car being disturbed enough by the journey that it had been set aside to settle down before drinking. Marguerite thought that it might go well with lunch the next day, before they set out for Angus Hardy's farm.

"Sit down, please, Marguerite," said Hamilton. "Gachiru should be pouring the wine, not a noblewoman. Here he comes now. I think he went after more water and ice."

Janet laughed. "Peter just likes the idea of a beautiful noblewoman serving him. Usually, I have to do that if the servants are off that night."

"Then he is well served," replied Marguerite. "For if you lack a title, you are certainly a beautiful woman, Janet. The Earl and I have enjoyed meeting you and Peter. He was very gracious to offer us the victualing permits so that we didn't have to shoot game on our licenses." She carefully omitted that much of the meat had gone to feed the Rosses and Handley, and their native police.

Janet was thrilled by Marguerite's generous comment and the women fell to talking about female things, so that the men soon rearranged the table seating order to enable them to have brandy and cigars at the lower end of the table as they discussed more "important" issues, like the Nandi bear, guns, hunting, the recent native uprisng led by the witch doctor whose demise Marguerite had foreseen, the stock market, and politics.

At last, they adjourned to their tents, for dawn would come too soon for some. And they would break camp that day, leaving behind the scene of this adventure.

The Challengers entered their tent, and Finn stripped off her sun dress. It had shoulder straps just wide enough to cover her bra straps. Some of her dresses like that had such thin straps that she wore no bra with them, but in this time, she had to limit wearing them to when the couple were alone or with very close friends. There were a few things that she missed from her own century, and relaxed dress standards for women was one of them.

She walked shyly over to Challenger as he sat on his wide cot and put her hands on her head, posing, made full inside by his interest. She licked her lips, and Challenger's heart raced.

He admired her, clad now in just brief, lacy lingerie patterned after that of her own century, sewn to her specifications by a Frenchwoman who ran a fashionable shop in London. I think I know what is finally going to kill me, he mused. Some night, this girl will get me so excited that my heart won't be able to handle the strain. But I'll die a happy man...

He said, "Stop preening and sit down while I undress. First, let me tie the tent door shut. This is no time for someone to barge in on us. And it is about to be even less the time for that." He looked meaningfully into her deep blue eyes, and saw her blush deepen as she flashed him one of those smiles that could light a large room.

"Promises, promises," she grinned, and turned to place her blue shirt and khaki hunting pants in the laundry bag. She saw the hand axe that he had left by her gun on the trunk beside the bed, and blanched. "Hey, George, you at least cleaned that thing off, didn't you? It'd be a mood killer to think of it still having M'bili's blood on it." She shuddered.

He dropped his shirt on a chair and gathered her in his powerful arms. "No worries, Darling. Science doesn't demand that I keep the hand axe as we found it in that regard. And I knew your probable reaction to it. Moreover, I didn't want to risk bringing dangerous pathogens into our home. I washed it thoroughly with boiling water and soap while you showered before dinner."

"Good! Look, squeeze me just a little more while we kiss. Then, sit down, and I'll take off your boots. I like the way that you look at me when I do that."

And before long, she was liking the way that he did other things, but we will leave the couple to themselves in that regard. Even Finn Challenger would be embarrassed to have us know some things about her private life!

In time, she slept, stirring briefly as she woke from a nightmare involving violent chimpanzees chasing her with sharp hand axes. She shuddered, snuggled closer to George and slept again, this time without interruption.

Dawn came, and the personal boy scratched on the tent door, announcing the arrival of tea and croissants freshly baked by the cook. He had learned to make them from a French chef who had been among their number when beseiged by the rebellious witch doctor's forces in the fic, _A __Lion __Comes_! (Unfortunately, this is no longer on the Net.)

Finn smelled the croissants and jerked awake, opening the door after donning her deep green robe. She inhaled the aroma and thanked the black servant, who smiled broadly and withdrew.

She tied the door shut again after setting the tea tray inside and tugged George's hand. "Hey, Genius! Smell this and get up. I'm pouring your tea now."

"Ummm," responded the male Challenger. "Did they remember to bring blackberry preserves?" His favorite...

"Yes, baby, and he brought honey. Come on; I'm getting this all ready for you now. Hey: last night, I said that I like the way that you look at me when I'm taking your boots off. Want to know how you look at me?"

He struggled to focus his great mind on that issue. "Adoringly, probably. That's how I feel about you, and not just when you're taking my boots." Why did she always have to hear that he loved her? But he knew that the words meant a lot to her, so he said them.

"You got it, Big Boy. Like you really love me and want to put me on that pedestal at home." She smiled shyly and leaned over to kiss him as he sat up. "I feel appreciated, Lover. And I'm going to make you feel appreciated, right back."

George looked fondly at her. "No reason why you shouldn't feel appreciated, Darling. Being the ultimate wife, you deserve it. I often reflect on our union, and wonder why the Almighty saw fit to bless me with such a wonderful mate. But if you want to feel even more appreciated, pass me one of those croissants with butter and jam on it." He shrugged into what Finn called his Coat of Many Colors, his thick robe in dark green, enhanced with lines of maroon and gold.

He wolfed two of the pastries and half a cup of tea, then said,"By the way, Finn, there may yet be a Nandi bear. I'll bring this up at breakfast, but want to tell you first. Those chimps are probably the villains in this present episode, but I have been thinking about those tracks that we found. Some may be blurred chimp prints, but others are quite distinctly different. The white hunters and Roxton will probably reflect on this and conclude the same. I think everyone who is in a position to know may be in denial just now, but that is an ugly snake about to squirm its way out of the bag. Ross and Handley probably won't like to address the matter, because it means that the case isn't concluded. And of course, there may be more of those killer chimps. Ross is going to have this on his plate longer than he'd like, I fancy. But we might make one more swing past that first koppje before we leave, in hopes that you may yet bag the true Nandi bear. Which may or may not really consume its victims' brains."

Finn sat thoughtfully, then took his hand as they sat side-by-side on the bed. "Thanks, Genius. I was thinking the same. But even if we don't get the real bear, I can point out that it's still out here, and maybe we can make another safari in a year or two just to get it. But I want to hunt tigers and stuff in India next year, and more or less promised Johnny that we would. Is that cool with you, Lover?"

He agreed, and they discussed the odds of getting the "bear" on this trip. Finn set the tea tray outside and doffed her robe. "Want to fool around before breakfast, George? I'm sort of turned on, but we probably don't really have time before Marguerite sends someone to knock on the tent and remind us that everyone is eating."

He consulted his watch and reluctantly concurred that there wouldn't be time for even what she liked to call a quickie. "Besides, you deserve to be enjoyed thoroughly and at length. I suppose that we had better dress and join the others. You'd better take a rain check, but I'll make that up to you tonight."

Finn stood on tiptoe and rubbed noses with him, toying with his anatomy until he almost grabbed her and made them late in beginning the day. "Okay, Lover," she said. "But that means that my mind will be obsessed with both the Nandi bear and awesome sex, all day. That's a heavy burden for a blonde's brain to bear."

He laughed and slapped her affectionately on her shapely bottom. "Dress, Mrs. Challenger. You're melting what remains of my resolve. We shouldn't embarrass ourselves in front of the others."

"Yeah," she admitted. "Marguerite would look at me mockingly all day. And we have to think of your reputation as a major scientist. As a blonde bimbo in heat, I have no reputation to defend. People probably expect that of me. But I don't dare embarrass my husband. He might spank me." She stood tauntingly, licking her lips, trying not to laugh. Challenger thought that she was one of the great temptresses of all time, and she was so totally his. The thought made him both proud and humble. And left him feeling a little frustrated as they dressed. But they made it to the table before the Roxtons did, so their reputation was safe from Marguerite's sarcasm. That was barely worth the sacrifice, and Challenger determined to make it up to Finn later. Hell, he thought: I will make it up to both of us. I'm not certain which Challenger is more put out by having to be out here with the others now. I'd better focus on the Nandi bear and those chimps. And, so they began breakfast.

Then, his wife poured coffee for him and took his hand beneath the table, and he felt a warm glow all over. I must be the luckiest man to have ever lived, he decided, and squeezed Finn's hand back as he turned to listen to what Blacklaws was saying about breaking camp later that day.

As they moved out that afternoon, they paused at M'bili's grave, and Hamilton read a short funeral service. It probably meant more to the Europeans than to the Africans, but they recognized his kind intentions, and seemed to accept the death. Their lives were usually precarious, and one that died of disease or was killed by an animal or by a human enemy was not mourned as much as was the case with whites, whose lives were more complex, with more spiritual overtones and a greater sense of loss. The average bush African was simply more accepting of violent death.

"The real pain will be felt by his father and by his wives," explained Blacklaws. "He had three women and several totos. The oldest child is about six. I'll pay the adults an indemnity fee of sorts, quite a large sum for them to have, and express sympathy. It's all that can be done. M'bili was a good man as his people go, and he won't be especially easy to replace. Well: anyone care to go by that cavern and see if there's any more sign of that bear?"

Of course, Finn Challenger and John Roxton insisted on checking and they were soon scouring the ground for tracks or any other sign of the beast. Or, of the dangerous chimpanzees! They went so far as to enter the caverns again, taking flashlights and finding the odd spoor of the bear.

Outside, they located three more tracks, and Susan photographed them, getting Finn to stand where her shadow cast just the right light to reveal detail in the prints.

As they drove off, they were watched by unseen eyes, as a large animal with both feline and ursine features flicked its tail and growled grimly before retracing its steps and entering the cavern by a side opening screened by bushes. It had thought of attacking these upright monkeys with pale skins and ripping the brains from them, but sensed danger from the way that they moved and the manner in which they held the strange sticks that made loud noises and slew animals. It had seen the Challengers kill the hyena with mange a few days before and the lesson of the guns had been impressed on its memory. Now, it would sleep. That night, it would prowl, and find fresh meat in the form of an errant antelope or a native who had wandered from his village. The beast did not know that it was thought to be mythical, and what it did to its victims was very real.

It scented the remaining chimpanzees in the cavern and roared. Two chimps armed with hand axes heard and scampered away, hooting and chattering in their terror. They knew when to give way to an even more fearsome creature.

The End


End file.
